London, Friday Fandom time

[sharp_as_knives]

Even if Hannibal hadn't genuinely wanted a motorcycle, the sheer glee on Jono's face when he discussed it would have made it a very tempting prospect. The looks Hannibal got trying on leathers weren't discouraging, either.

So, after most of Thursday afternoon and a bit of Friday morning, they were the proud owners of a 2015 Triumph Thruxton and a Norton Commando 961 SF, and Hannibal had a new jacket, leather pants, and boots.

And when you had new bikes and leathers, you had to try them out, didn't you?


[OOC: For the other boy on the bike! NFI, NFB, OOC is love!]

Comments

[furnaceface]

Jono leaned back a little, his expression almost amused, there.

//She'll respect it,// he said, with some certainty. //She cares, yes. Hell, I'd be lying if I said I didn't still care for her as well. But she's not moving to the island with the expectation that we're going to start some great romance again, and she was never... pushy. She's always respected my limits. That, I trust, hasn't changed.//

He twined his fingers through Hannibal's.

//This right here, this is what I want. Do you believe that, at least?//

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal searched Jono's face, his body language, every little clue that he could get. But then, he had thought Will was genuine, too.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Took a moment to shut away his own emotions - caring and suspicion both - and another to add scent to the litany of Jono's tells.

[furnaceface]

And Jono... Jono was patient. Understood that this was a difficult position to put Hannibal in, in the first place. And worried, silently to himself, that he'd damaged something today. He was being as honest as he could, of course, but it was difficult not to worry.

There was no guilt, though. No indication that he was lying. What would a lie do but hurt them both, anyway?

So, worry, then, that he was about to lose something dear to him, here. And understanding. Patience. He could stand here all night, if that was what it took for Hannibal to come up with a verdict.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal opened his eyes again and framed Jono's head in his hands, stroking the little creases at the corners of his eyes. He nodded, just once but firmly.

[furnaceface]

And at that nod, Jono let himself let go of a figurative breath he had been holding, raising his hands to close over Hannibal's, just for a moment, before letting go to pull him into his arms, instead.

He needed to cling for a moment, okay? Some moments just desperately called for clinging. This would be one of them.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal dropped his arms to wrap around Jono in turn, a little tentatively at first, and then fiercely. Jono was his and yes, he would fight Death for him if he had to. Hannibal did not give up easily.

[furnaceface]

Jono... was still fairly convinced that fighting was not entirely necessary. But the fierce hugging was good. He could live with more of this fierce hugging thing, right here.

... It was actually one of the better hugs he'd had in a while. There was something about being claimed that just felt... yes.

Yes. Good. Hi.

[sharp_as_knives]

Fortunate, since Hannibal had no intentions of letting go, and every intention of claiming him. And he would prefer not to fight, but if it came down to that, he wasn't averse.

[furnaceface]

And Jono would probably just sort of pat Hannibal's head, if it came to that, and patiently tell him that he was being ridiculous.

Only, in a way less likely to cost him a hand or something.

//Mine.//

Someone had to say it first.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal was under no illusions that he stood much chance against Death, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try.

Hannibal smirked. He rarely said as much outright, but yes. And if Jono was willing to admit it... He murmured into Jono's ear in turn, low but vehement. "Mine."